


Ask Me If I'm Happy

by Crumbles_Of_Reality



Category: Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Avengers Family, BAMF Natasha Romanov, Civil war doesnt exist, Clintasha - Freeform, Fix-It, Friendship, Natasha Romanoff is a human being, Other, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, Support, and she needs a hug, cacw WHOM???, clint x natasha if you squint, couldnt leave my two gay sons out, its kinda there, there is stony in here but its in the background, very mild
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-15
Updated: 2018-03-15
Packaged: 2019-03-31 19:05:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13981410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crumbles_Of_Reality/pseuds/Crumbles_Of_Reality
Summary: Natasha Romanoff was not always a member of the Avengers, but she's recovering from her traumatic past and there are people along the way who want to help her- she just might not know it yet.





	Ask Me If I'm Happy

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure what to call this, but I ended up calling it Ask Me If I'm Happy because it's a line from a song that I think describes Natasha really well.  
> Happy by Mother Mother is really sad but I think it's morbidly fitting. 
> 
> Also, there are NOT enough Natasha-centric fics out there. What the hell.

Natasha Romanoff sat in the corner chair of the room and observed her teammates from the best viewpoint possible. She was aware that they knew why she sat there.  _ Always position yourself in the optimal vantage point. Never turn your back on your target- never become vulnerable.  _ The echoes of the Red Room whispered in the back of her consciousness, a constant reminder to never let anyone get too close. She shushed the voice and curled inward on herself a little. 

To anyone else, this may have seemed like a normal act to get comfortable. The Avengers were not normal. Clint gave her a small, reassuring smile. Tony beamed at her and passed her the popcorn. Bruce glanced at her, blushed, and turned his attention back to the movie. Steve, from where he was nestled against Tony’s body, observed her carefully before returning his gaze to the action scene continuing on in front of him. Thor remained quiet- he wasn’t given as much credit as he deserved, Natasha thought, because the god was truly quite intelligent despite what his speech patterns may have argued. The message was clear- they were there for her, and they always would be. 

She relaxed. No- that’s a bit of an understatement of what she does. Natasha willed her body to loosen- her muscles untensed and her shoulders slumped a little. She pulled a blanket up around her knees and patted the spot next to her on the armchair she’d claimed. Clint calculated these motions before he shuffled next to her and lay his head on her lap silently. Her fingers carded through his hair, her eyes focused resolutely on the television and not on her - _ opponent-  _ teammate.  Comfortable silence filled the room. Natasha was safe, nothing would harm her here. The fiery-haired woman was sure of the fact that every team member in this room would give their life for hers, as she would do for them. It shouldn’t have reassured her- to anyone else, surely, they might’ve be worried about this reality. 

Natasha loved it. 

  
  


_ She was young and intelligent. The agent across the room from her was good- this surprised her. SHIELD was usually trying to meddle in her missions, but few had ever gotten as far as this one. Despite his attempts to remain casual, his body language was too much of a tell. She was able to sniff out the rat from a mile away. His hair was dirty blond and his eyes were sky blue. Natalia let herself ponder upon what he would feel like underneath her- squirming and writhing from pleasure and pain combined. He would be so good for her, and she could slit his throat at the end of the night without him ever realizing. More than that, he could kill her. She pretends not to yearn for that-- maybe if she fooled herself for long enough, she’d crave it less. Natalia was young, but her life has been taken from her. The teenager didn’t kid herself about that, didn’t let herself think about the innocent lives she’d stolen in payment for all those who were deemed guilty. _

_ The target she was with was old and decrepit. His hand brushed hers once more and she wanted to snap it-- it would be so easy to crumple his bones in her hand, to hear him scream and plead for the mercy of a mere girl of sixteen. She laughed at the thought and smoothly covered it as a cough into the crook of her elbow under the watchful eye of the man across from her. He grinned like a shark, and she saw his predatory gaze on her breasts. It took all of her training not to roll her eyes- men like him were  _ so  _ pathetic. Her gaze returned discretely to the boy still pretending to be a waiter at the entrance of the restaurant.  _

_ Clint Barton was young and intelligent. The boy took to SHIELD like a duck to water- or as he liked to joke, like a hawk to the skies. His specialty was his marksmanship, but that didn’t mean his understanding of the human body and how nonverbal communication worked couldn’t be put to good use. He had a target. She was described as young and beautiful, age uncertain, green eyes depending on whether or not her colored contacts were out. He saw the girl he was sent to kill- Natalia Romanova, graduate of the Red Room, extremely well-trained and deadlier than most people in Russia. Her form was lithe and deadly- the first thing he noticed was not this, however. It was not her legs or her breasts or her waist. He glanced over nonchalantly and made eye contact with her, lips tweaked into a small, sad smile. Clint saw her green, knowing eyes and he saw what she’d done to other people through them.  _

_ He saw her begging for a way out. _

_ Things escalated after she’d completed her mission and her plan was going  _ exactly  _ how it was supposed to; They’re in a spare bedroom in a cheap motel the boy had booked. He had slipped the key into her food seamlessly, giving her a small wink and mouthing the room number as he shimmied away. Natalia was doing exactly what she had wanted- stripping and pulling clothes off him and connecting their lips in a desperate attempt for something (what? What can she possibly want?) and the boy looked at her sadly. Her hackles raised, her training screamed for her to run, and he whispered into her ear, lips brushing the cartilage there and breath tickling her neck.  _

_ “You can thank me later,” he said, and pressed a dart into her delicate skin. Natalia looked at him and let herself do what she had never been allowed to do. She smiled into his neck where he’d cradled her and mouthed something-  _ Kill me.  _ The girl wasn’t sure if he’d see it. Barton didn’t-- he felt it, felt her lips brush against his collarbone and his years of lip-reading and training to ‘hear’ when he couldn’t tell him exactly what she said. He stilled, hands still clasped around the blades between her shoulders and pressed into her skin through the silky fabric of her bra.  _

_ It was his mission. This was what he was supposed to do. Take down the Black Widow. Take her down.  _ Take her down _.  _

_ He couldn’t do it.  _

_ She had given herself entirely to him and Clint knew with a sinking feeling that she would hate him for what he was about to do. Clint tugged on their clothes as quickly as possible. He scooped her up in his capable arms and ran, out of the motel room, away from where the backup SHIELD agents were stationed. He cradled her body to his chest and tried not to slow down for as long as possible. To him it seemed like he ran for hours. He knew, somehow, that it still wouldn’t be enough. SHIELD wanted her dead. Usually, they got what they wanted. _

_ Phil Coulson stepped into the streetlight of the sidewalk he’d run down. It didn’t faze him. He stopped, breath coming in short, labored pants as he quickly got into position. Clint placed Natalia’s body behind him and stepped in front of her, shifting into a battle stance and reaching for a weapon. Phil help out his hand- Clint stopped.  _

_ “We’ll take her in. If you think she’s worth it, if you think that she can be taught where her loyalties lie- we will take her,” Barton’s handler walked towards him, hands still out in the open to reassure. The boy knew that the agent could easily have taken him down despite this, but he stood aside and let Phil examine the girl. Phil nodded once, curtly, and Clint picked up Natalia to follow his handler. _

 

_ They’d gotten their work cut out for them.  _

  
  


The movie ended and Natasha was nearly asleep. Of course, she never really fell asleep around the team. Around anyone, for that matter, except Clint and Coulson. It wasn’t just her training that had done that to her- it was the years and years of betrayal that came with being a SHIELD agent. Bruce shifted slightly as the end credits rolled. Thor’s first snore of the night bellowed through the room- Natasha pondered the man; His natural behavior seemed to be born of loud, brash actions. 

Tony and Steve were tangled up in eachother, brunet’s face tucked into the crook of blond’s face, both of them sleeping peacefully with each other. She knew from viewing them both sleep alone that this was the only way they didn’t have nightmares, and a warmth spread across her chest. They were sweet together. She looked down at Clint and felt something different, more protective and fierce. She loved him-- Natasha wasn’t sure how yet, but Clint looked up at her through stormy grey eyes, framed by dust blond eyelashes, and her heart fluttered. A smile pulled against his lips, and he took her tiny hand in his, standing up slowly and picking her up, blanket and all. 

She allowed it. The rest of the team was asleep, not able to see her vulnerability in the moment. Her hands curled up against Clint’s chest and her eyes shuttered closed as the elevator took them to her floor. Her memory took her back to years ago, when she had woken up in his arms being carried the same way. She remembered how she had twirled out of his grip and started throwing punches, how he blocked every single one with a grace that matched her own and steadily backed up out of reach before turning and walking away, clearly displaying his weak spot. Natasha smiled and let sleep, however brief, consume her. 

 

Anthony Edward Stark was a riddle to her. Natasha simply could  _ not  _ figure him out the first time they met. And the moment she thought she had, his poisoning was revealed by Fury and his personality changed completely. Everything about the way he acted, moved, and spoke reminded her of how she once was. It unsettled her greatly, and that was most likely the reason for her distrust to him at first.

When the masks fell away, he was just… incredible. There was no other way to put it. His mind worked like a whip and everything he did was done for the sake of fixing his past; Natasha could sympathize with that. 

“Where… Steve…. I need some coffee, pleasugh,” he grumbled into his arms, head face down on the cool tile of the island in the kitchen. Natasha chuckled and noted that when the masks  _ completely  _ fell away, he was still a bit of a handful. Steve, ever the doting boyfriend, sighed and went to the complex coffee machine to start pressing a series of buttons that had taken even Natasha a while to remember. Once all was said and done, Tony got a monster of a mug filled to the brim with dark black coffee. The rest of the Avengers still didn’t understand why so many buttons were required in making such a simple beverage. 

Natasha believed that it was just for show, and she knew for a fact that if you asked nicely Tony would show you the small ‘Espresso’ button on the side of the machine that made coffee just as well as the other routine. Days after Natasha had finally gotten his button sequence down-pat she had walked in on him pressing it and snickering at her wide eyes. She had whacked him on the side and tried to hold back her grin. Clint constantly complained to Natasha to make his coffee because he “really couldn’t do it, Tash, you’ve  _ got  _ to help me” and she was too much of a sucker to say no. 

In the present Tony had just stood up abruptly, eyes sparkling. Natasha told herself to calm down-  _ he’s not going to hurt you, he’s your friend, he cares about you-  _ and she forced herself to look at him slowly and casually instead of in an assessing manner like she wanted to. “I have an announcement!” Tony was beaming at the sleep-riddled Avengers, and he began pulling up holograms from thin air, apparently in sync with JARVIS’ systems as well. 

“For you, dear Legolas- a new set of arrows, ones that make things go boom  _ and  _ leave a horrible residue everywhere to disable nearby enemies,” he twirled the projection to where Clint was facing, wide-eyed. Tony looked at him with a smirk, but Natasha saw the uncertainty in Stark’s eyes- the fear of rejection. Clint replied with a grin and whooped, thanking Tony profusely and pulling a tongue at Steve when the captain rolled his eyes at the behavior. 

“Steve, babe, light of my life, sweet sea flower- oh come on, it would’ve stuck-”

“It would  _ not  _ have, Tony, just call me honey or something that  _ isn’t  _ overdramatic-”

“- I got you better protection! No- wait, Barton, shut up- it’s for  _ battle  _ you utter children, and it’s stronger than ever before because instead of using a light polymer base I went for something mor-” Steve cut Tony off with a swooping kiss, to which the shorter man looked delighted about. The rest of the Avengers either looked away or wrinkled their noses and gagged (alright, that was just Clint-- but who could blame him.) When they pulled apart the genius continued, pulling up improvements in tech through holograms and perfected prototypes. Natasha did not expect anything; However, she had learned that when Tony gave someone something, he went all out. If he had chosen to display their new gear in a public group like this, there was no doubt the man hadn’t prepared something for her. She tried not to preen at the thought, and when all the others have oohed and aahed at their impressively designed weaponry, Tony turns a watchful gaze to her. 

“Nat, I know that sometimes I can be a little insufferable. That-” he scratched his head nervously, “-- and that you always put up with me despite it. So I made you some really cool outfits; There’s a couple dresses and heels and stuff I know you like and it’s all armored and still very flexible? I think you’ll like it,” he finished, smiling awkwardly as if his gift to her was subpar compared to the others. She gave him a wide smile, making her eyes crinkle in all the  _ right  _ ways because - _ people are supposed to have emotions, Natalia, never let them know you don’t-  _ she really cared about him and her expression were the best way she could show it. 

She recalled the many years ago that they had first met. Undercover, her name had been Natalie. It kind of suited her, at the time, and she had flaunted it to a full extent while doing her job. She had sauntered into the penthouse behind Ms. Potts and quickly assessed the situation. Cockiness and self-surety oozed off of her, but she managed to cover it with sweet perfume and sultry smirks. It had certainly seemed to work on Stark- at the time she had been unaware of his ploy to get Pepper to acknowledge him, and now she blamed herself for easing him into the unhealthy relationship he had endured with his CEO.

When Natalie saw his resigned face at her betrayal and indifference, she had thought that was it. The woman did not believe she had assessed him incorrectly at that moment, but a couple months later would prove her wrong once more.

  
  


_ Stark walked towards her with a grandiose stride that seemed to leech confidence from everyone around him. He strided up to her, step faltering only a little as he approached. She raised an eyebrow- nothing he had done so far apart from in the beginning of them meeting each other had suggested that he was interested in her. His body language now had not suggested differently, but perhaps she had misjudged him?  _

_ He looked around and motioned for her to enter an empty office room that the spy  happened to know lacked cameras. Natasha immediately sniffed in anger- did he really think that in his state, even at peak physical condition, he could take her down? That was just insult- _

_ “Romanoff,” He nodded at her respectfully, then broke into an excited grin, “I know you said you didn’t need any upgrades or anything  _ but  _ I looked at the schematics for your Widow’s Bites, right? And their electrical output power was literally less than half of what it could be, plus their design kinda sucked- wait, did you design it yourself? Forget I said that, they’re beautiful, I love it, and I’m rambling, aren’t I, here.”  _

_ His hands fumbled in his pockets and Natasha forced herself not to stiffen and move her own hands to her weapons. Stark gave her an apologetic grin despite the fact that she hadn’t moved. How did he know? He was an inexperienced civilian and the way he could read her was infuriat- _

_ Tony pulled out two sleek, beautiful Widow’s Bites and Natasha let herself gasp. They were stunning - matte black and deep, blood red, designed with easy access and beauty in mind. She would be able to wear these anywear and still claim them as jewelry- each wristlet alone must have cost a fortune to produce. She voiced her concern aloud, and Stark shrugged. Natasha made the mistake of deciphering this as a request for payment- she tilted her head, batted her eyelashes, and said ‘thank you’ in the most sultry way she could muster.  _

_ The Widow’s Bites the genius had created were incredible, and Natasha was determined not to part with them no matter what it took. If that meant… less than satisfactory payment methods… then so be it. She leaned forward, calculating the angle in her mind and fluidly shaping her body around his, curling into him and pressing her hand on his bicep. At least he was attractive, Natasha muses, and tried not to think of all the others who  _ weren’t  _ young and strikingly beautiful like Tony. Tries not to remember their hands all over her helpless body, holding her down as she screamed into a gag and pleaded- _

_ “Nat- Natasha, stop it,” Tony spluttered, recoiling from her in surprise and backtracking into the office desk. He studied her in concern and she saw his sharp eyes gathering measurements and breathing patterns even without being too close to her. Her mind stuttered to a halt, plans for making things quick eradicated at the turn of events.  _

_ “Stark? I- those Widow’s Bites were surely expensive,” she repeated again, her voice more feeble than before and a little bit humiliated. Tony, somehow, understood this. He smiled at her and his eyes had become gentle and unguarded for a moment. It caught the agent off-kilter and allowed him to stride forward, placing the Widow’s Bites dutifully in her open palms. _

_ “Free of charge, Ms. Romanoff. Completely free- consider it a debt repaid,” he whispered, voice quiet and understanding. She moved to speak- to apologize, and he shook his head. “There’s no need, darling. You’ve been through a lot, and I respect you a whole hell of a lot. If you ever need anything- a place to go, a weapons upgrade, you come to me, alright? I know you don’t need it, and I think too often other people just accept that and let you struggle through things on your own. You’re not alone. You- well, I’m not very good with this whole ‘emotion’ bullcrap, if you catch my drift. Just keep the Bites, Widow,” he grinned, then traipsed out of the office room like a cat that got the canary. Anyone watching from an outside perspective might have believed he had, but Natasha was amazed. Her partially-open-mouthed gape remained in place even as Clint swooped down from the vents and sat down on the desk across from her.  _

_ “Well isn’t that something, huh? I was totally gonna beat his ass if he took you up on that offer, by the way. Don’t do that, Tash, there are some things you don’t need to pay people back for. Be his friend,” Clint advised. Natasha raised her eyebrow and clipped her mouth shut. Since when did Clint become a life guru? _

  
  


The day had continued fairly smoothly- there were no villain attacks on New York and no world-domination plots that had come to life, so that was a plus. Natasha had started the morning with brewing her favorite kind of tea and then curling up in her favorite spot in the communal living room couch with a book. It only took an hour or two before Bruce came and sat down near her, absorbed in a crossword puzzle before she could blink to look at him. He didn’t pay her much attention- his brows were furrowed in an attempt to figure out what 23 Vertical was. Natasha strained her eyes to read the text and smirked a little. 

“It’s Budapest.” 

“It is  _ not _ . You and Clint always say that,” Bruce glared at her and failed to hide his grin. 

“I’m telling the truth this time! Pálvölgyi cave is in the Buda Hills; look it up if you don’t believe me,” she’s smiling now, knowing that the ‘Budapest’ joke between her and Clint was a long-running mystery for the rest of the team. Any little fact about their mission there (true or not, Tony couldn’t tell) was immediately documented by JARVIS. Natasha pretended she didn’t know that specific fact and put on a fake shudder for the AI’s censors. 

“The snakes in those caves... “ She trailed off, catching Bruce’s horrified look before she turned back to her book innocently. They return to their comfortable silence and the super-spy tried not to grin as Bruce filled in B U D A P E S T for his crossword. 

  
  


_ She’d pushed a chair into the corner of the room when she heard him. Her mind calculated the light, quick-paced, purposefully quiet footsteps as Bruce’s, and she only had a moment to leap into hiding before he entered the room. Natasha’s eyes swept the room silently from her space among soft blankets, the lack of light in the den transforming the friendly furniture into menacing objects. The couch became her bed, small and too short for her growing legs but she couldn’t get up because she was handcuffed to the headboard and they were walking around, checking everyone’s faces and whipping them if their eyes were open and she’s nauseous and-  _

_ “Here,” Bruce whispered, and how did he get here? Madame B would not be pleased- she would punish her, hurt him to get to her, make Natasha torture him- but Bruce pressed a scalding mug to her palms and she whipped her head to look at him, eyes wide and confused.  _

_ “Bruce?” Her voice was surprisingly steely despite her shaking body. The heat of the tea in between her hands brought her back to the common room and away from the horrible conditions of the Red Room. Bruce nodded at her and backed away, settling down on the couch directly across from her in ease. She waited a while from her hiding place, which turned out to be crouched low underneath the huge loveseat she often occupied.  _

_ It always took a while to pull herself from the flashbacks of the Red Room. Her body un-tensed, her mind let go just enough for her eyes to blink once or twice, clearing them of the horrors of her past. The calculations and trajectory angles and tactics stopped screaming at her angrily and her hands uncurled from the mug, pushing it out from under the chair and allowing herself to crawl out, all smooth limbs and luxurious motions that made her appear calmer than she obviously was.  _

_ Bruce didn’t look at her, and she felt gratitude rush through her for him. Being seen for too long in one of her states was not an optimal option for her, and she tended to remove herself from the group when she could feel one coming. Tonight had been a… different technique for her. She had moved to the evidently empty team floor and begun transitioning into a comforted fortress, pushing her favorite chair and the blankets that the team had given her into the corner where she could see everything she needed to. Natasha had thought that maybe, surrounded by familiar and safe scents, she could have been calmed. It had worked, but barely. Her thoughts snapped back to Bruce as he pulled out a box from a cabinet under the huge flat-screen TV that the team used for movie night. He poured the puzzle pieces onto the coffee table and began slotting them together, piece by piece.  _

_ Natasha crept up to him, not trying to be particularly stealthy. Bruce glanced at her gently and smiled, motioning to the puzzle as an offering. She nodded and felt a small, anxious part of her break away.  _

_ The spy sipped her tea cautiously. The scientist placed another puzzle piece. By the end of the night it was complete, a patchwork picture of a hauntingly beautiful countryside. Natasha felt strangely nostalgic, delicate hand brushing over the image and ghosting over the illusion of sun-kissed flowers. Bruce took her empty mug of tea and went to go wash up.  _

_ Slowly, she returned to her bundle of blankets. Natasha folded each of them with care and placed them on the couch along with the rest-- They were a mix of blue and purple and red, the tastes of the givers showing in the patchwork gifts.  _

_ She thought that maybe the Avengers made the best puzzle.  _

  
  


Natasha had finished her book a little after Bruce had worked his way through the rest of his cross-word puzzle book. She gathered her tea cup and brought it to the kitchen, scrubbing methodically at the tea stains the bag had left on the bottom of the china. No one really had to do the dishes in the Avengers tower- there were plenty of bots and cleaners for that. For some reason, though, she found it strangely satisfying. As she finished her mug and continued onto some leftover plates in the sink she allowed her posture to slacken. No one was around her, no one was watching apart from JARVIS. She scolded herself for caring and then cursed her past for causing it. Her mind wandered to miniscule points of happiness in her life- getting to indulge on her missions and eat some of the finer foods, being rewarded for her first successful training session at SHIELD, joining and fighting with the team… she was brought back to the present at the sound of quiet but heavy footsteps exiting the elevator to the floor. 

“Hey Steve,” she said, her comfortable monotone forgotten at the thought of friendship.  _ Friendship _ , she mouthed, and it felt weird around her tongue. The tall supersoldier walked into her line of sight and Natasha thought that it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to get used to a friend. Steve grinned widely at the sight of her and strode forward with purposeful steps.

“Natasha! Just the Avenger I’ve been looking for- do you think you can spar with me later today? Tony had to leave unexpectedly for a board meeting and that usurped all my plans for the afternoon, so if you’re free just let me know!” The man’s grin was infectious, and Natasha found herself smiling with him. 

“Sure, Steve. I’ve just about finished here, let me just go get my gym clothes on. I’ll be right down,” she packed away the last of the dishes into their respective cabinets and watched as Steve nodded happily, heading for the stairwell in excitement. He probably wanted to jump down them floors at a time- the last time Tony had caught the blond doing that he’d received a serious talking to and a few impressed gazes from the surrounding Avengers. 

Natasha waited a moment before shaking her head in exasperation and running to fetch her clothes from her floor. 

  
  


_ “Captain,” the spy said, and apparently even Steve’s super-hearing hadn’t picked up on her light steps. He jumped and turned around to look at her, large hands barely restrained from lashing out. Natasha saw how he was shivering. A part of her asked her to be good- pleaded for her to let go of the past and help him. Natasha was not having a good day.  _

_ “Come spar with me,” she said, leaving no room for negotiation. The small voice died out, a vicious rush of hatred and pain tearing at her insides and leaving her raw and blood red. They got to the gym at the same time despite taking different routes, and Natasha threw her first punch before the super-soldier had ample time to react.  _

_ He dodged at the last second and her fist scraped the side of his jaw. Steve turned to look at her, betrayal in his gaze. She didn’t think about it and crouched low, concentrating on how to take down her opponent. When the captain raised his hands to defend himself she maneuvered herself around them easily and ups the game, letting the fight get to a level of intensity she usually didn’t allow herself to indulge in. _

_ They were both in pain. Steve had clipped her sides and her face, obviously not enjoying the fight. He was shuddering more often than not and yet Natasha still moved around him gracefully and ruthlessly, much like her namesake. She was letting more and more swings hit her, silently begging for him to do his worst, but the man remained steadfast and controlled. Her mind was a flurry of anger and pain and confusion and why wouldn’t he  _ hit  _ her, why wouldn’t he take her down like everyone else would, tried to,  _ succeeded  _ in doing, just-  _

_ “Natasha- stop! Stop it!” Steve’s voice broke past the heavy grunts of pain and the squeak of the mat below them. She stopped immediately, looking at him with resentment. Steve held her gaze steadily, and Natasha realized the childish aspect of her actions. She at least had the credit to look dismayed.  _

_ “You weren’t in the right-- Natasha, it’s okay. It’s okay to not be in the right place. That doesn’t mean you can take it out on anyone else, but it also doesn’t mean you can’t ask for help,” the blond regained his strong composure and gave her a weak smile. Natasha felt her head clear and disgust filter through the haze of dark clouds in her mind. She hurt Rogers. Intentionally. There was no doubt involved-- her intention had been to rile him up in his state of distress for her own -albeit masochistic- benefit. Steve, ever the attentive man, shook his head. _

_ “I forgive you, Natasha. Now come on, I have to go finish the hot chocolate in the pantry by tomorrow so I can record Clint’s reaction when he returns tomorrow,” the captain beamed innocently at her and took off.  _

_ Natasha followed.  _

 

When Natasha had returned from her shower the team floor was in chaos. Clint and Steve yelled about Mario Kart and the  _ correct  _ way to throw a blue shell (was there an incorrect way?) while Tony attempted to steal a kiss from his super soldier boyfriend. Unfortunately for him, he was far too short to reach the captain without the latter reaching down. Unfortunately for  _ Steve _ , the genius had no qualms about clambering up his side to plant a solid smooch on his cheek. Bruce watched the whole scene unfold with an air of amusement and controlled horror. Natasha stopped right outside the elevator and wondered if she should just turn around and go back to her floor, but the smell that wafted from the kitchen convinced her otherwise. 

She ignored the calamity in front of her and made a swift turn to the kitchen where Thor was bustling around. The god had taken to their oven and modern technology like a torch to a flame and when Natasha entered he was busy throwing spices on a piece of foreign meat that marinated in what appeared to be a broth. 

“Think I can help?” She strode to the side of the stove the broad-shouldered god wasn’t occupying and peered into the pan. Whatever it was, it certainly smelled great.

“Ah! Lady Natasha, I have been expecting you! Is it in your preferences to learn a new Asgardian dish today?” Thor beamed at her, hands full of finely chopped vegetables and spices. Natasha had no idea how he managed it, but he managed to make the diced butternut in his palms look miniscule. It was a true talent. 

“That depends- what exactly  _ is  _ this thing?” Natasha smiled up at Thor, who began to explain the mighty serpents of Asgard and how he had brought one just for the rest of the Avengers to try. His talk washed over her calmingly and she picked up on the important details for the meal preparation.

 

_ Natasha Romanoff did not like the rowdy god sat in front of her. He had attempted to no avail to befriend her on many different occasions. It wasn’t his fault, but Natasha had a thing against loud, rowdy men who didn’t take no for an answer. She realized later in her life that there was a difference between not taking ‘no’ for an answer and not giving up on someone broken.  _

_ Thor had tried almost everything he could think of to win over Natasha’s friendship. He had sparred with her to the best of their abilities, spoken to her of the mighty beasts and battles that occurred in his homeland, and even bought her the finest of Asgardian knives from his favorite blacksmith-- the last time, at least, she had given him a kind smile and pocketed them. The man had almost decided to give up and let things happen in their own time, despite the fact that the Midgardians around him had frighteningly short lifespans compared to him. On a tired march to the pantry in the middle of a sleepless night, Thor had noticed a brilliant smell wafting from the adjacent room and walked in on Natasha cooking something concentratedly.  _

_ “Lady Natasha,” Thor began, and he quickly found a knife embedded in the wall next to his head. He chuckled and held up his hands, “I apologize if I may have caused any alarm to you, your meal smells incredible. May I inquire what it is that you are making?” He was fully prepared to leave the room if she declined, but Natasha smiled, exhaustion in her eyes, and beckoned him forward.  _

_ “I’m making chicken kiev; Its something I used to eat as a child before-” She stopped, and the food in her hand shook as her hands quivered slightly. Thor nodded in understanding and sat on one of the stools at the kitchen island.  _

_ “Wonderful. I would love to hear how to make such a dish- I’m quite skilled at cooking cuisine in Asgard. If you ever wish to learn and trade dishes with each other I am a willing learner!” He settled onto the stool and grinned at the small assassin as she slowly began to speak. The god registered through his Allspeak that she had begun speaking Russian, and her voice lilted every now and then as the meal in front of her came to life. _

_ After what Thor calculated to be a Midgardian hour and one half, the chicken dish had been fully prepped and cooked. Natasha plated it efficiently and quickly, spreading the parsley butter evenly on top of the chicken and scooping the roasted vegetables into clean portions on two plates. She picked up the two and, under Thor’s peaceful scrutiny, placed one next to him.  _

_ Natasha was not nervous to be judged for her cooking because she knew that she wasn’t a bad cook, necessarily. Thor’s watchful gaze, however, eased a small amount of anxiety out of her. She waited for him to try it first before touching hers- it would be a small disappointment to miss his initial reaction upon trying her cooking. Thor took a mouthful and his eyes widened dramatically. Once he had finished chewing he started to speak. _

_ “Lady Natasha, this is truly marvelous! I must say, this is probably much better than a roast Beezsnaffle,” the god of thunder exclaimed. Natasha felt herself smiling with his excitement, then let her brows furrow at the mention of the mysterious animal. Thor, surprisingly attentive, noticed and promised that one day he would bring one for them to cook together. _

_ Natasha decided that the rowdy god in front of her was alright.  _

  
  


Thor and Natasha had just served the meal and placed the plates at the dining table when Tony and Clint tumbled in, yelling about one thing or another. They picked up on the scent of good food and made a beeline for their seats, quieting down almost immediately. Steve trundled in seconds after, smiling at the two who had cooked the meal in thanks before sitting next to Tony. Natasha waited patiently for Bruce to enter- he usually took the sign of silence throughout the floor to mean dinner, and sure enough the quiet man entered a couple minutes into the meal. The Avengers began to bicker good-naturedly to one another, teasing each other’s quirks and making silly remarks on how they had battled the previous week. 

Natasha made a quip about how none of their hair looked quite as fabulous as hers in battle and realized-  _ She did it _ . She was happy, surrounded by people she loved and trusted and who returned the sentiments. The thrum of their voices comforted her, enveloping her and calming her nerve-wracking revelation. 

She was not Natalia Romanova- a murderer, assassin, deadly, calculating, logical… homeless.  Nor was she Natalie Rushman- a spy, dangerous, secretive, assessing, seductive… lonely.

She was Natasha Romanoff. 

A hero, amazing, inspiring, powerful, loved…

Happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a comment or a kudos if you liked it!


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